


Dean Didn't Choose the Slug Life

by Colette_Capricious



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Other, Serious Crack, i actually watched videos of, nobody should read this, slug au, slugs mating for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:54:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1371313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colette_Capricious/pseuds/Colette_Capricious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys get turned into slugs. That's really all there is to say about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean Didn't Choose the Slug Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Trojie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/gifts).



> Lovely picture of Bobby as a Giant African Land Snail courtesy of the lovely and talented ectobling. check out her tumblr!
> 
> This is 110% Trojie's fault. She said to do the thing. So I did the thing.

“Did she just say something about salt?” Dean yelled to Sam over the double-barreled blast of the shotgun. The seriously pissed-off ghost blew apart long enough for Sam to torch the creepy ass doll tethering her to this plane. Dean wasn’t sure whose shriek was louder, the ghost’s or her witch of a granddaughter.

“Hey, idjits” Bobby yelled. “Get the witch!” He sounded a little stressed which Dean chalked up to the strain in his shoulders. Hanging from your arms was no fun. Dean knew from experience. Bobby’s face and body were splattered with pink dust.

Sam and Dean swiveled to where the fairly-average looking middle-aged woman stood, face a rictus of hate and arms outstretched. Dean caught a face-full of pink dust and heard something that sounded like lemonade, limeade. Something like that. Silver flashed in his peripheral vision as Sam’s knife whizzed by to bury itself in her throat.

“Nice throw!” Dean said as the witch collapsed to the ground. He turned to clap Sam on the shoulder in the traditional Winchester show of approval and frowned when his hand whooshed through empty air. “Sam?” He quickly scanned the area. No Sam. “Sammy?” Odder still, no Bobby. “Bobby?”

Dean would panic, really, if he didn’t feel so odd all of a sudden. Dizzy, really dizzy. And kind of sweaty. “Fucking witch,” was the last thing he had time to say as the ground rushed up to meet him.

****

 

 _Dean. Dean!_ Dean shook his head, trying to dislodge whatever was tickling his face. He’d heard Sam call his name countless times, in countless ways. This was new. It sounded - no, that wasn’t the right word - it _felt_ , felt odd. Flat and distant. The fleshy tendrils brushed his face again and he felt Sam calling him. He tried to brush whatever the fuck was touching him away but his arms wouldn’t move. He tried to wiggle his toes. Well, _something_ was wiggling but it felt nothing like legs.

The tentacles (that’s what they had to be) brushed against his face and he felt Sam again. He realized that Sam was somehow communicating directly to him through the fleshy appendages. _What the ever-loving fuck?_

 _Dean. Open your eyes. C’mon, Dean._ Sam’s mental voice was strained, bordering on panicked.

Dean opened the eyes he hadn’t even realized were closed and his body lurched backwards as it registered the giant ....slime monster...hovering over him. He was grateful the yell of surprise (terror) stayed locked in his head. He could barely see. Everything was distorted and blurry. It felt like he could move his eyes independently of each other.

The slimy-looking brown tentacles reached towards him again and Dean realized there were actually two pairs. One longer pair with - were those eyeballs? - and a shorter pair that were waving around trying to touch Dean. Dean shuddered as the short pair brushed across something on his face. He could swear the tentacles looked exasperated.

 _Okay, Dean,_ Sam said. _Don’t freak out._.

Well, he _hadn’t_ been. But know that he knows there’s something _to_ freak out about. _Sam,_ he...tentacled...back at his brother. _What the fuck is going on?_

Dean felt a twitch that somehow translated into a sigh in his brain. _I think,_ Sam said, dragging the words out slowly. _I think that witch turned us into...slugs._

Dean felt his eyes swoop up and down, which was as close as he could get to blinking in this state. This state that was, apparently, slug-like. _Slugs?_ Dean bent his...eye stalked he guessed, and saw Sam’s head bob in sluggy nod.

 _Giant slugs?_ he asked, hopefully.

Sam shook his head.

 _Damn._ Dean took inventory of his body. It seemed to be working. He could move, breath, communicate with Sam through touching his tentacles. So a perfectly healthy functioning slug. _Well, fuck, Sam. What now?_

 _I think we should try and find Bobby._ Sam’s body rippled as he turned around.

Dean obediently followed. Sam seemed to have a plan, might as well go with it. He wasn’t too worried. Spells seldom lasted very long after the death of the witch. Actually, most spells broke instantly. This soccer-mom-looking witch must have had more power than they’d given her credit for. Dean would be impressed. Maybe. If he wasn’t a slug.

Dean trailed an inch or so behind Sam. It was actually fascinating. His slime trail glittered like diamonds and it just smelled so amazing. And the way Sam just flowed over the grass and rocks. Dean felt an odd stirring in his…head? Somewhere near one of his tentacles anyway. Sam always did have a great ass. Even in slug form Dean couldn’t take his eyestalks off of it. It glowed, beckoning to Dean in all its white, shiny glory. He just had to get his tentacles on it.

Dean gathered his muscles and lunged. His tentacles tapped gently, caressing the silky skin. He felt a shudder ripple through Sam’s body. Dean had the urge to go faster, to slide up and over Sam, and wrap around him, never letting him go.

A normal day, in other words. But there was an urgency to this that was new. A cell-deep need that he didn’t think he would be able to fight for long. He tapped urgently on Sam, trying to get Sam to turn around. To talk to him.

Sam slowed and stopped, their bodies sliding over and under each other in a slow-motion crash. Dean moaned inside his mind. Sam twisted backwards, tentacles reaching for Dean.

 _Dean_ Sam’s soundless voice conveyed breathlessness and an echo of the yearning that Dean was beginning to feel building in him. _What is it?_

 _I feel,_ There are no words for how he felt, so he just pushed the emotion through somehow, through touch, through scent, through whatever connection they had. _I don’t want to, you know…_ He never knew slugs could feel embarrassed. Maybe they couldn’t. Maybe he was the first one. What the fuck did he know about how slugs feel? Right now he just knew he needed to follow Sam up to the nearest high place, slither all over him, and, well, fuck his brains out.

He yanked his tentacles back like Sam is covered in salt. _Salt._ That’s what that witch had been going on about. _Son of a bitch._ He reached back for Sam.

_Sammy. Watch out for the salt._

He felt the agreement coming from Sam. _Tree._ Sam communicated. _It’s the last place Bobby was._ Sam muscular body rippled as he moves off across the ground.

Dean wondered if Bobby was a slug, too. Either way, he was on board with the tree thing. Trees are high. He really needed to climb.

The trip to the tree felt interminable. At least the rock salt from the shotgun was easy to avoid. At this size, the grains were easy to sense. Finally, finally, they were at the tree. Dean’s vision isn’t the best, but as far as he can tell, there’s no Bobby. Not that he had any idea how they were going to let Bobby know that they were, in fact, them.

But it doesn’t matter because Sam, brilliant slug-boy that he is, was moving out to the first low branch. His slime trail thickened and Dean slid up and around his body as they fell in slow-motion off the branch.

It was all touch and sensation as their bodies coiled and twisted together. All Dean could feel and scent and process was Sam. Sam was all around him. And Sam felt just as good as Dean had always imagined. The want in him was a burning thing, an all-consuming need. He fleetingly wondered if all slugs got this horny because, damn, and then Sam was touching his face again.

 _Dean,_ he sent. _I’m sorry. So sorry. I need…I can’t stop._

Dean could feel Sam’s lust and his need that matched his, and underneath it, a cold threat of guilt and shame. Only Sam could be turned into a slug and still feel guilty. Dean wished desperately for hands and a mouth so he could grab his beautiful (even in slug form) brother and kiss him until the guilt dissolved under the force of it. 

_Don’t want to stop._

Sam’s tentacles twitched in denial even as he twined more tightly around Dean. They were hanging from the branch now, twisting slowly at the end of the silvery thread. _If we were normal, human, you wouldn’t want this,_ Sam said.

 _Would. Do. Always did,_ Dean forced out. It was the last coherent thought he had before the pressure building in him burst open. It felt like his insides were being pulled out as _something_ slid out the opening in his head. It just kept coming and coming. He could move it, control it, and it writhed around, searching and yearning for something to complete it. _Holy fuck._ he though. _That’s my dick._

His next thought was _Holy fuck, that’s Sam’s dick,_ as a transparent blue appendage slid down his body, groping through the air. The two organs reached out for each other and the shock that ran through Sam and Dean as they latched together made their bodies tighten almost painfully.

It was like nothing Dean had ever felt. His penis slid out further and further, curling around Sam’s in an echo of the twisting of their bodies. The tips melded together, pushing and twisting, unfolding and opening like a blooming rose. The bonded organs glowed blue in the twilight and, when they finished blooming, opening fully into glorious completion, Dean’s (vanished) eyes rolled up into the back of his (mental) head.

He could feel the fluid leaving him, pulse after pulse, pushing into Sam, mixing with Sam’s essence, swelling and rolling, filling them both up. Over and over as they writhed and twined together until the pleasure blotted out everything else in the world

And then it stopped.

They hung there, twisting slowly back and forth at the end of the silken thread. Dean could feel everything folding back up, feel Sam start to slip from him. He shuddered as they withdrew from each other. It felt like Sam just kept going. How long were these things? Dean wondered. Was, was Sammy’s _longer_ then his? Couldn’t be. 

The sliding stopped abruptly and Dean’s slug dick jerked to a stop.

Dean slapped Sam with his tentacles. _Dude, what the fuck? Careful with the merchandise._

Sam tugged gently and Dean could feel his little slug face wrinkle up in concentration. Sam did something, then yanked again. _I think we’re stuck,_ he sent.

_What?_

The long muscle of Sam’s body relaxed its hold on Dean and he started to slip. Sam quickly tightened back up. _I think our -_ He waved his four tentacles around in a vague gesture.

 _Dicks,_ Dean helpfully supplied.

 

Sam’s head bobbed in acknowledgement. _Our dicks are stuck together. And I have a very strong urge to – to – bite yours off._

That last bit came out in a cramped rush and Dean let it play over in his head a few times, hoping there was an issue in his brain with the Sam-to slug-to human translation. The slow but steady movement of Sam’s head towards Dean’s dick cleared that up. Dean smashed his head against Sam. He wanted to be one hundred percent sure Sam understood him. _Sam. If you bite my dick off, not only will I not be able to fuck you again, but you had better be sure that you turn human first. Because if turn back into a dickless human and you’re still a slug, I will rain salt down on you from above like it’s Judgment Day. If you’re human, I’ll just shoot you._

Sam reared back at that, as far his he could with this ear-penis still twined around Dean’s. It took a full minute and some careful maneuvering but they managed to detangle from each other. _Thank god,_ Dean sighed. Then he frowned. _I feel funny,_ he thought as their bodies unlocked and he plunged to the ground.

His back slammed into the loamy earth four feet beneath the branch from which he had fucked his brother while in the body of a slug. “Fuck,” he moaned for a million reasons as soon as he got his breath back. He rolled his head and came face to face with the biggest freaking snail he had ever seen in his life. The shriek died in his throat as he felt the horrifying tickle of snail tentacles brushing across his face. With the last vestiges of his slugness he heard a definite _Balls_ from the oversized slime factory.

“Bobby?” he asked incredulously as something landed with a plop on his naked (he now realized) stomach. “Gah! Sammy, gross!” Grimacing, He held his hands out, caught between the impulse to flick the eight-inch long Sam-slug off his stomach and the unwillingness to touch it. “Oh, god, Bobby!” he yelled as the giant snail started to climb up his body. He gave into the crawling of his skin and brushed both of them off with a shudder. As he leapt up and back, first Sam, then Bobby burst into human form with an audible pop. Naked human form.

“Balls!” Bobby swore, reaching out and smacking Sam upside the back of his head. “Next time, kill the witch faster!”

Dean laughed and Bobby turned and smacked him, too. “Idjits. Go get dressed.”

 _Oh yeah,_ Dean thought, Naked Sammy. He’d always wanted to get a good look at the full monty. And now he could. I mean, when you’ve already had mutually penetrative sex with a penis the size of your body, well, there’s no going back from that. He dragged his gaze slowly up Sam’s body, ended up looking at Sam with a leer and a cocked eyebrow. “Hey, Sammy.”

Sam met his look with an evil smirk and a nod of his chin towards Dean’s crotch. “Looked bigger when you were a slug.”

Dean’s jaw dropped, insulted yet impressed despite himself at the masterful levels of snark Sam was displaying. Next to him, Bobby snorted. Sam was halfway to a run by the time Dean hurled his sorry retort. “You…you’re bigger as a slug. Slug boy.” Damn, he sucked at that.

Sam’s laughter drifted back as Dean chased after him. Wait until he got Sam alone. He’d show him exactly how big his dick was and he’d make Sam damn grateful he hadn’t bitten it off.

He heard Bobby yell after them as they ran laughing through the yard. “Clothes, you idiots! Put some damn clothes on!”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see the video, it's here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D5_zqJvNhQw Obviously I have no idea how it feels when slugs mate. I hope it feels good for them, otherwise, sucks to be them. All the scientific, biological mistakes are obviously mine. I have a degree is Political Sociology. What do I know from slugs?


End file.
